Azel's Epilouge
by Fireminer
Summary: In the aftermath of the Holy Crusade, Arthur found his father frozen under the dungeon of castle Belhalla. Watch how the red-headed mage taking his first baby steps in a new strange world.
1. Chapter 1

_DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY IS INSPIRED BY THE FANFIC "_ _WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING_ _" BY_ _MARK OF THE ASPHODEL_

* * *

The war had been won. Light had triumphed over darkness. The reincarnation of Lopt had been slain under the sword of the Prince of Light.

("But then why did these cultists continue to fight?") Arthur asked himself as another wild-eyed man thrown himself before his Elwind. A blink latter, and it was impossible to distinguish him anymore – he was but more flesh and blood to be added to the already high pile.

Prince Seliph had specifically the magic-capable of his crusader host, including his brother-in-law (yes, brother-in-law, Arthur reminded himself), to make a sweep of the Belhalla castle so as see if the Lopt had hidden away any magical trap. But instead what the mages found were hundreds of men and women, ravaged by hunger and desperation, which jumped at them from every corner with swords, knives, or even bare fists.

The Lopt cultists must be eradicated, or so Arthur constantly said aloud in his mind. Those that not in compliance with their fate did not have the right to live in the country which one day his sister would be the queen, or even the right to live on the same world as her.

Even so, he hated himself for doing this.

"Please come out with your hands on the air! We will not hurt if you don't mean us harm!" Arthur yelled. With the fire spell, he could only illuminate a few footsteps ahead in the ink-black dungeon. And there were literary dozens of cultist laying low at every corner…

Down the spiral, and he reached the lowest level of Castle Belhalla. Here, even the stone grew sick and bleed black water. The moss was so thick that in some place, they grew as fast and hideous as cancer.

What scarce light from the palm of Arthur's hand reflected off the smooth surface of what seemed to be coffin. It was, he confirmed, after his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Was this another secret of the Lopt cult, a terrible monster waiting to be unleashed?

At first, he thought about running up the stair to call for reinforcement. But curiosity overwhelmed prudent, and Arthur approached the coffin. He dusted it off and realized the said object was made in transparent crystal.

"Who could this be?" The intensity of the Fire spell was increased before Arthur could have a good look at the person within the coffin. The man was about as tall as him, though he might have been older, and once had a rounded chin but then had been edged unevenly, not unlike the pencil sharpened by a dull knife.

However, what drew Arthur the most was that nose. Something he had once seen, no, once he could just extend his fingers to grab with it. The person with that nose always had him sat on his knees, playing with him and smiling with him.

A word so alien to him came from the depth of Arthur's throat, a groan more than anything:

"…Father…"

* * *

 _"I can't fix it." The broken bouquet lying in front of him summed up the extent of his panic. Despite his best, Azel fumbled around with the knots which had then turned into a tangle impossible to be unraveled._

 _"I can't fix it."_

 _"What can't you fix?" Hearing the voice of Tailto made his heart almost burst for panic. And there was also…_

 _"THIEEEF"_

 _"TAILTO!"_

 _"Just what are you doing in Lady Aideen's room? Are your lingering affection for her seeping through…?"_

 _"Y-You've got it all wrong! Look-Look!" He handled the bouquet to Tailto, who seemed to have the grasp of things almost in an instant._

 _"Ah, I see how it is. The ribbon on the bouquet, huh…?"_

 _"Yeah… But I can't tie the ribbon correctly."_

 _She chastised him while her hands (magically in Azel's eyes) unraveled the … and then re-tied it._

 _"You even bought the bouquet with you, clumsy…"_

 _"I was panicked."_

 _"It was still a stupid thing to do… Here! It's all done."_

 _"You… Wow… It looks great! So you still have some girlish traits in you."_

 _"Don't say another words!" Her face turned the shade of pale rose. Strangely enough, Azel could not tell whether she was truly angry or not. It was once of the few time he could not guess her mood._

 _"Hurry up and bring that back! I'm not going to the bouquet toss!"_

 _"So you don't plan to attend?" And he had spent the last hours looking him. To think that yesterday, Tailto was still so enthusiastic about Lady Aideen's weeding, constantly talking about how she would be the one to catch the bouquet. She even got mad when teased by Lex._

 _"…"_

 _"You can't! Everyone's waiting for you! They said they will be worried about you if you don't go!"_

 _"That's… Because everyone is so kind, they just naturally try to consider my well-being." She tried to smile, but the result was anything but cheerful._

 _"Right, everyone likes you!... The bright and cheerful Tailto." His words triggered an anger, the kind that he had never thought could be seen from his best friend. Tailto's cheeks swelled, and she spoke vehemently with closed jaws:_

 _"Bright and cheerful!... Don't act like an idiot and blurt out stupid things!" Her voice suddenly lowered by two notes._

 _"I heard all about it, about me becoming a hostage… That's right… Because I didn't think about the consequences of tagging along with father's Claude, now everyone is…"_

 _"You know… Right before I set off to the tower of Blaggi I happened to run into my father. Although that time Father Claude wasn't with me… "He was going to be furious", I though to myself. But that time he didn't say a single word with me. So… I was under the impression that he was telling me it was okay to go with Father Claude."_

 _"He used his own daughter to satisfy his own ambition. And like the fool I am, I allowed myself to be used… And now, Lord Sigurd, Father Claude, and everyone else have been accused of treason. All because of me!"_

 _"Thinking about it will not help you." Azel tried to reassure his best friend. "Instead, we should thinking of ways to clear us of those accusations. Take me for example. I wrote a letter to my brother."_

 _"…What was his reply?"_

 _"He still hasn't arrived."_

 _There was still plenty of sarcasm in Tailto as she said:_

 _"You're so stupid!" That same disdainful smile which had frustrated Azel for how many times appeared again on her lips. "All the letters that aren't hand-delivered by special envoys go directly to the prime minister first. Your letter is just going to be crumbled up and thrown away."_

 _"ARGHHHH! All you do is nitpick!" No, he was beyond the point of patient. Forcefully, Azel grabbed Tailto by her arm. "Just come with me"_

 _"Ah! No! I don't want to-"_

 _"You're coming!" He pressed, all the while dragging her through the front yard._

 _"Geez, you haven't changed at all. You're acting the same way as that one time."_

 _"…That one time…"_

 _"Don't tell me you've forgotten already. That time when the grandmother you loved so much passed away."_

 _"When that happened I remember you said: "Grandma isn't dead! Only when they have a funeral for her, then she will have died!", you insisted. Then with the keys already in your hand, you hid yourself in the church tower. So as to prevent anyone from getting inside, you locked the doors to the church where the coffin was resting."_

 _"… Your remember that?..." Once again had blood rushed to Tailto's cheeks, and her voice had lost its bashfulness._

 _"Then I had found out where were you hiding. But no matter what I said, you wouldn't come out. So I had to bash the door open as hard as I could…"_

 _"In order to prevent me from running away, you wouldn't let go of my hand. But… Somehow that was reassuring to me. And I was able to hold back my tears." Tailto finished his sentence, a smile then graced her lips. Had it not for the lingered sadness, it would had been brilliant._

* * *

It was a sharp turn which woke Azel up from his alcohol-induced sleep. He was tossed from his down and landed face-first on the floor. Cursing and swearing with profanity, he tried pulling himself up but to no avail, as his limbs shook like grass before the wind. In the end, he accepted the hand which his son offered.

Arthur, who sat on the other couch, was digging through the content of his couch. The hangover had worsened his cognitive ability, and it took a long while for him to find what he needed:

"Here, Father, please drink these." He handled Azel a bottle of water and pills, squared and smelt of lemon soda. "They'll make you feel better."

As his patched throat was soothed with cool water, clarity slowly returned to his mind. Slowly, Azel registered the traveller's cloak Arthur donned, the confining wooden box, the up-and-down of the axles, and the scenery of a forest passing beyond the windows.

"What in Naga's name?! Why are we on the ride?"

"To Velthomer. We're going to Velthomer." It took several blinks for Azel to register the meaning of the name, one that he hadn't heard for years and would rather it remained buried.

"Why are we going to that place?"

"Don't you remember? I must collect the Fire Emblem from the castle for the accession ceremony. And you agreed to journey with me last night."

"I don't remember doing so…"

"Yes you did. And don't you think about going back." Warned Azel, having seen the gleam in his father's eyes. "We've already been a morning away from Belhalla."

Now Azel recognized. They had come as far as one of Velthomer's many forests, where the centuries-old cedars lined up on the sides of the road like two mountain ranges, and space drastically went vertical to be stopped by the foliage. Sunlight made pinpricks on the ceiling formed by lustrous canopies. Under this shadow their horses were toiling; "clip-clop-clip-clop" their hooves made, a constant, repetitive, never-ending rhythm.

"It would be a good change of air, too. For the last month you spent all of your time within the castle."

One month… Four weeks… Thirty days… Had it been that long? The frigid sensation of waking up from the magical sleep to see the world no longer what he had remembered still sent shivers down Azel's spine. Since then he had mostly stayed in Belhalla castle. He was afraid.

"If this trip bores you, why don't you have another nap, then? It'd be a while before we arrive. And don't worry, I will wake you up."

* * *

 _"What kind of woman… is Siglurd's wife?"_

 _It surprised and unsettled Azel at equal amount to see the pallid expression of his brother. Alvis's visage took a sudden change, becoming pale and rigid, the moment he heard about the spouse of the Chalphy Duke._

 _Keeping his thought to himself, Azel spent the next minute or so describing everything he remembered about Lady Diadora_

 _"Hmm… Let's see… She's very beautiful, in a mystical kind of way. Like a spirit, I guess."_

 _From her amethyst eyes , the gentleness which she shone, the devotion she reserved to her husband and her son, he talked all about them, his tongue slipped many times during the monologue. Such was not his fault, however, as it was the effect Lady Diadora had to the people – she acted so amiable to everyone, yet her otherworldly beauty and kindness put her above them all. Describing her was not unlike trying to grasp the air with your hands._

 _Azel was so engrossed that he failed to recognize with every word he said, the darker his brother's demeanor came to be._

 _"That reminded me. You've gotten married recently as well, right, Lord Brother? Just thinking about His Majesty's granddaughter is my sister-in-law is awe-inspiring!"_

 _"What are you saying… You're related to the royal family too, you know?" The ghost of a smile passed through Alvis's face._

 _"And that means us needs to find you a suitable princess, too."_

 _"Ah, er… Well… I already have someone in mind…"_

 _"That letter you sent from Silesia. You mentioned Lady Tailto in it…"_

 _As realization dawned upon Azel, his veins were drained of blood and the cold embrace of truth froze him._

 _"Hold on, Lord Brother, that means… Duke Reptor didn't keep you from receiving it?"_

 _"Forget that girl."_

 _…And this was the part when Azel's world broke into pieces:_

 _"She is the daughter of a criminal. And there is only one future for the daughter of a criminal…"_

* * *

The estate was the same as it was in his memory. On the hill that overlooked the city of Velthomer sat the Duke's castle. It stretched several hectares, built in the castle-within-a-castle style which was common in the time the Crusaders still walked on earth, a time when form follows function. Behind the wide moat, the outer wall was a perfectly equilateral octagon that only opened to the world by a drawbridge. Towers were built at every corner, so high that they seemed to touch the cloud.

If the visitor had passed the outer wall, however, he would have been pleasantly surprised. The manor had been rebuilt a few times, the last major renovation was done by Azel's grandfather. It was archetypical of a baroque architecture, with daring curves and a dynamic rhythm of columns, pilasters, and protrusion. Marble was extensively used, and the

Even in grandeur Castle Velthomer remained a mystery. Incipient playfulness and rigorous rules co-existed. Surrounded the mansion is an artificial forest whose seed were sown by its first occupiers, and could leave an intruder without direction and die.

Yet closer inspection revealed a different story. In Alvis's time, and before that their father's time, the gate never closed and a constants stream of men and carriages flowed on the draw-bridge. But now, there were no gate, and the castle opened wide like the gaping maw of a man without tooth. The façade had been defaced, the faux-columns showing deep cracks.

For the first time in his life, Azel tried to count every that stone that were peeling layers by layers away. Now he understood what was to be homesickened.

Stood waiting for them was a butler, whose visage was a reflection of the state of the castle. Benson, Azel recognized, had the look of someone who was recovering from a lethal disease.

"Master Azel. Young Master Arthur. Welcome to your home." Still, the steward of House Velthomer had not shown any lacking in courtesy. If there was any surprise to Azel's return, he hid it well behind a mask of professionalism

"It's good to, uh, see you again, Benson."

"The Gods had truly looked upon you, Master Azel… Livie, Anton! Take care of the masters' luggage!" Two servants rushed to the yard to be awkwardly handled the suitcases and portmanteaus. Together all five of them walked into the castle. Arthur actually spent a moment lingered at the entrance, admiring in awe the arch.

"I don't recognize them. Where is Hanel?" Asked Azel. Old Hanel was, well, the oldest servant in the household (despite that he was only 43 when Azel left.)

"Livie and Anton here were hired during your absence, Master Azel. As for Hanel…"

They passed through the hall of the castle, which looked even more desolated than the outside of the castle. Gone were the polished armors, each attached to a legend. Gone were the mosaics depicting scenes of battles and festivals. Gone were the tapestries that denoted the vast history and incomparable prestige of the Velthomer House.

"…He and many of the servants retired… Livie, Anton, and I were the only ones left." He added the last part with much embarrassment. Such was the pride of a man being injured for the failing of his duty.

"I see…"

"Master Azel, I wish to ask whether you'd like to stay in the guest room… or the room of Master Alvis."

"What about my room? Is anything wrong with it?"

"Ah… Please forgive me, master. I've been neglectful with your room, and now it was unsuitable for anyone to stay there."

Azel could see through his lie. The word "neglectful" had never been in Benson's dictionary. His best guess was that the same people who had put the castle in a state of derelict were responsible for this matter.

"…Then I will stay in brother's room, and please leave Arthur the guest's room. Is it okay?"

"Yes, Master. Everything has been prepared for your arrival. May I take you to your rooms?"

"Of course. Thank you."

* * *

Though it had always had an air of foreboding in Azel's memory, the dining room as it was now made his skin crawled. The dark wood furniture suckled up more light than what the candles could produce, while the flame burned wearily inside the sooth-stained fireplace. One could barely saw the faintest outline of his feet, and might occasionally think he was submerged to the ankles in a puddle of oil.

That lack of light, the eerie atmosphere, and the blandness of the food made this occasion not unlike a torture session to Azel. He almost choked on the tasteless cut of beef that to him was no different than leather to be chewed.

"How was your afternoon, Arthur?"

"Benson showed me the paperwork that needed to be read, and I've been going through them ever since."

The faithful butler, who was standing on the corner of the room and patiently waiting for any order of them, gave a cursory bow when Azel turned to him and smile in appreciation.

"Remember to listen to Benson. He knew this estate better than anyone alive. You'll definitely need his advices."

"I'll keep that in mind, Father." Arthur turned his attention back to the Ragout, and Azel found himself in the uncomfortable silence again. Oh, if only he had gin-and-tonic, just a shot, to lubricate whatever was coming down his throat.

"How is your life with Fee?" To distract himself, Azel asked about his daughter-in-law. To think about it, this was the first time he had done so.

He had only met the girl for once. A cute girl, he thought, but the shock was too much. If his daughter's engagement to Lord Siglurd's son was not enough, then Azel was definitely hammered hard to find out his little Arthur had already married. To the daughter of Levin, no less.

"We've our… differences." Arthur confessed after a moment of hesitation. "But we'll manage it just fine…"

"No."

"No what?"

"You're lying…. Now, don't give me that look. You're the same as with your mother. Her left eyes always twitched when she lied... Now, please tell me the truth. Did anything serious happen between you two?"

"Fee… She wanted to join the expedition army, and I've no way to talk her out of it."

"Expedition army?"

"I remember that Levin had told you about it? He and Finn intended to lead an army of volunteer to venture into the Yield Desert, so as to wipe out the last pockets of the Lopt. And my friends… I mean the children of the crusaders. They wish to find any lead of their parents. Lady Lachesis, Lady Ayra, everyone who had "vanished" between the years."

"Father… Your revival gave them hope." Azel detected the aftertaste of bitterness in his son's words. "Everyone now think that the Lopt have been imprisoned their parents somewhere."

"Do you hate me for that?"

"No. Not really. I suppose that even if you hadn't woken up, Fee would had found another reason to follow King Levin and tried to bring him back to Silesia... I've tried many times to talk her out of it, but she can't get over her obsession. And the last time… Just yesterday's morning… We've a huge fight."

The young man was to be incapable of expressing his frustration beyond a much-restrained sigh, before returning to the soup bowl with a grim concentration. It seemed to Azel that his son preferred to keep this matter private between him and his wife. Still…

"…Arthur, I know that I'm not really fit to give marriage advice, but… will you hear me out?"

His son nodded while shoving a mouthful of hot soup down his throat. The image of Tailto doing the same thing flashed through Azel's mind. He had so much of his mother and little of him.

"Just… Just let everything go easy. You don't have to try really hard to solve everything between you. Sometimes..."

"It's too dangerous for her! I can't let her heading straight into danger!" Arthur finally let his emotion ran the better part of him.

"I'm not saying that you should allow Fee to go with the Expedition Army. Just… Why don't you stop talking to her about it for a while. Let her have some quiet times to think about it. And let her know that whether her decision is, you always have her back covered."

"Is this what mother did when you decided to leave her and Teeny?"

"…Yes. And forever I curse myself for being too selfish to understand her gesture at the time."

…The rest of dinner was once again spent in silence.

* * *

Once the city of Velthomer was second only to Belhalla in its wealth. Now, it was but a shadow of its former glory. After the flood of soldiers had departed, came the second wave of human: refugees, vagabonds, farmers, merchants, and everyone looking to make a good fortune from the ruins. When all that could be sold had been looted, began the vandalism and arson for apparently no reason at all.

And even though the situation had some what calmed down, it was still unsafe to walk on the streets of Velthomer. Only armed men, or drunkard wandered between the derelicts now.

But Azel was neither. He was only melancholic. Letting his foot to bring him wherever it could, he hoped to break this sense of ennui.

It was the late of the afternoon, late enough for the shops (what little was left of them) to lit up their lights, but still early enough to see the face of people clearly. As said above, the streets were empty save for Azel. He had been walking for almost an hour now without coming in contact directly with a human being.

Just as he was about to turn back, the smell of frying oil caught Azel's noses.

 _("There is nothing better to do."_ ) He thought, and allowed himself to be lured by the thick scent. The closer he came, the thicker the aroma became – a delicious (and might be convulsing at the same time) mix of batter, beer, eggs, and thrice-used peanut oil.

Right around the corner he saw a lone cart, with its contents hanged on the wire a telltale sign of what it sold. Its seller was busily dropping what seemed to be rectangular into the cast-iron pan, filled to the brim with the sizzling oil.

Either a painter, or a writer of horror story, would have been inspired by this scene, of a woman and her stall standing alone among the ruins. What was left of the vanity story but its dregs?

Shoving his hand into the pocket to make sure that he carries with himself a coin or two, Azel approached the cart. He spoke:

"Hmm… Can I call something?"

The woman slowly turned to face him, and the hollow look in her eyes disturbed Azel. Even though she was likely to be around the 40 year-old mark, years had been added to her age in just a moment.

"Lord Azel!" He tried his best to repress his astonishment. How could anyone realize him with just a look? Immediately, hundreds scenarios appeared in Azel's head, from an old acquaintance, a servant, a tutor, to maybe thieves and charlatans and Lopt cultist.

In any cases, he'd rather remain anonymous.

"No, no, you must have been mistaken me for someone else. My name is not Azel. I've been to this city today."

After a long moment scrutinizing his face, the woman finally accepted who he was. Her shoulders slumped.

"Yes… You can't be him. You haven't reached 30, and the young lord must have passed that age long ago."

"I'm sorry, but did I do anything wrong?" Azel asked, having noticed the disappointment in her look.

"No, no, good sir! It's just you aren't him… Ah, I'm sorry! What do you wish to have?"

Soon his order was presented: black bread soaked in a mixture of beaten eggs, milk, sugar, cinnamon, then fried to golden brown. It was the same thing that Azel had once enjoyed as a child; still, he had lost all of his appetite and was now more interested in the woman than her food.

"It's my treat! For mistaken you for someone else."

The memory had begun to return to Azel; however, it had yet been fully in his grasp. He could recognize that face, once younger with the cheeks more plump and pink. Her temple, he remembered, didn't have that much grey hair, and so as well her hands with the green veins running along on the back.

"The Azel that you mentioned… Isn't Emperor Alvis has a brother with that name?"

"Yes… But how do you know about him?" Her question was laced with suspicion and spoke in a hushed voice. Azel could see the woman had moved so that the cart stood between her and him.

"This 'Azel', brother of the late Emperor, you know him?... You don't have to worry about me! I'm only a servant." He lied.

"A servant? You don't look like a servant to me?"

True enough. Anyone could tell so by looking at his white and elegant hands, with fingers almost never subjected to hardship.

"Yes, I am. I once served in the Imperial Palace. I-I… overheard the Emperor speaking about lord Azel. He… He was crying."

For once, Azel was surprised in the sincerity of his voice, even though what he spoke was nothing but a lie. Might it be he wished to believe of his own fabrication?

"Crying…" Her lips suddenly curved into a sad smile, more pity than anything. "That does sound like lord Alvis. He loved the young lord more than anyone else."

"You know the Emperor well?"

"Oh, yes. I'd served the Velthomer house for twenty years before I ended up on the street. The lord…" She suddenly stopped and began turning her head left and right, eyeing for a sign of danger.

"The young lord was nothing less than an apple in his brother's eyes. Sometimes I thought of them not as brothers, but as father and son. There is this time…"

The next few minutes was spent to tell of an episode about Alvis practically worshipped (at least in the old woman's eyes) a doodle made by his brother. He even put the drawing in a glass box and hang it at the most visible place on his bedroom, disposing the portrait of the late Duke and his father as a consequences. It was something Azel remembered very well. He wondered whether Alvis kept it in some dusty corner of the house, or had thrown it away to get rid of any memento attached to his wayward little brother.

Also, now he recognized her. She was once of the older maids at the house when he was little. The plump woman, young Azel had always associated with candy for that was what she always sneaked to him when Azel visited the kitchen.

"So why were you dismissed, Ms. Ethel?" Already known the answer, yet he still asked.

"After the Crusaders came, they threw everyone in the house out except old Benson. The lot of them. Not one gentleman, only thugs and vagabonds. Why people hail them as hero mystify me."

"…"

"Now, I try to scraping by, as you see."

"I'm sure that things will get better."

"Why are you saying that?"

"I-I just know that. I mean, after the ascension of the Prince of Light, everything will return to normal, right? And maybe you will even have your old job back."

She made disbelief, if not sarcastic, grin at him, which made him felt extremely uncomfortable.

"Uh. Sorry. It's time I must leave. How much do I own you?"

"No, no, please keep it! It's my treat!"

"But surely I can't…"

"It's nice to be able speak to someone about the old times, you know… If you free times in the future, please remember to come to my stall. Just remember to come before 6 p.m., okay?" Old Esther forcefully pushed into his hand more freshly-fried French breads, wrapped in a piece of white cloth and still hot to the touch.

"I will."

* * *

While walking alongside his father on the streets of Velthomer, Arthur asked:

"Father. Why did you bring me here?"

While he was glad that his father had slowly coming of his reclusive shell, Arthur was also greatly puzzled by his actions: Azel now spent more time outside, wandering every streets and alleys of Velthomer, and only conversed with his son during dinner.

And yesterday, Azel had come to him with a sudden request: "Please come with me tomorrow afternoon." Arthur agreed immediately, as his curiosity had been getting higher by the day.

But then, nothing surprising happened. They spent their time loitering around, eating snacks, and exchanging gossips.

"What? Didn't you have fun?"

"No, I did have. It is just that…"

"We've never go out together like this before, so you think that it's strange, right?"

"Yes, but not entirely. You're in a high spirit today."

They had just left the Ms. Esther's stall, whom Arthur was whispered to be his father's former servant. Azel had attempted to make the old lady recalling as many stories about her time in the Duke's household as she could, sometimes adding a witty remark or two of his own, and smiling when he was required to.

"I want to talk to you about something. But not here. Let's us find somewhere private."

They walked to the west of the city, where the park was located. It was erected in the time of Alvis for the commoners, and was also one of the reasons for his moniker "Duke of children."

Already had they torn down the old statue of his brother, and a new one was being sculptured right . A slab of marble sat on the broken pedestal, unfinished. The artist, if the word could be applied to him, had done a terrible job capturing the essence of Seliph. Azel was pretty sure the Prince of Light didn't have squinted eyes, paper-thin lips, and a face which anyone could label as a charlatan's.

The father and son took their seat under a … tree, letting the shadow of the giant to hide them away from the eyes of the outsiders.

"Father, what do you want to talk to me about."

"I was just thinking, Arthur, about… what to do after the wedding. I want to ask you something first, however?"

"Please do, father."

"Hmm… Why do you choose to be the Duke of Velthomer?"

"To serve the people." Arthur had once answered the same question to Prince Seliph, and now he repeated it. "It's my duty."

"Duty… Does it has anything to do with your uncle, or else?"

"Yes, it's one of the reasons, but not all of it."

Their eyes caught the moment a flying wedge passed above them. The … had returned home in a tight V-formation. Winter was about to end.

"Teeny wishes for a world where everyone can live happily, and her dream is mine."

"…Thank you… For being a good brother, I mean…"

"Is there anything else you want to ask me?"

"Ah, yes. Let's just say that you were not a Duke. What would you do then?"

"I'm not really sure myself. I probably would let Fee dragging me to the corner of the world, until she gets tired of it and settling down."

"Then… Arthur, what do you think if I take over the Dukedom?"

"Why the sudden request, father? I remember that you never show any liking to that position before?"

"I just think that… If I become the Duke of Velthomer, then you'll be free to go wherever you want with Fee."

Arthur's eyes turned darker and harder as he spent his time contemplating. And when he had an answer, it was as heavy as a boulder.

"No."

"No?... But why?"

"You won't become the Duke of Velthomer, and Fee won't go leave me to go with the expedition army. That is certain."

"But Arthur!"

"Father. If this is because what I said in the last few day, then I apology. You don't have to feel guilty toward me."

"Wha-What? You must have been mistaken! I'm not…"

"What is done, let it bygone. Father, now is the time for our family to stay together."

"Arthur, I… You don't understand it. I just want to do something…"

"You don't have to do anything. Please let me taking care of you." Arthur raised his voice, showing that he would allow no more argument.

"It has been a good day, father, but it is time for us to return to the mansion."

Once again, his son stood up and left without him, leaving a baffled and melancholic Azel.


	2. Chapter 2

For the third times that night, Azel cursed his judgment. First, he let himself being roped into an unwanted trip. Secondly, his attempt at mending the broken father-and-son relationship made it from bad to worst. And thirdly, choosing to sleep in the room of his brother.

Tossed and turned, tossed and turned, Azel rolled from one end of the bed to the other, desperately trying to find his solace in darkness. Yet, he was unable too.

There were simply so many thing… wrong sleeping in Alvis's room. The king-sized bed was too soft, too fluffy to his back, which had been used to sleeping on anywhere but silk and goose feather. The aroma of lilies – Alvis's favorite flower – lingered on every piece of furniture, long before they had stopped to be appreciated. And the metal-line oaken door and the windows covered with planks, they gave away a sense of claustrophobia

But worst of all, he knew that Lady Diadora once slept in this room, and Alvis had mourned her here too. He must have felt the same way as Azel now, being swallowed whole by the dark…

More than one had the thought of sneaking into the cellar for some wine had crept into his mind (Arthur had specifically ordered Benson not to let him anywhere near alcohol), but looking back at his earlier fallings, Azel would not risking to make a scene of himself once again.

And so he tossed and turned, tossed a turned, torment in his own decisiveness.

...

("Sleep will not come tonight.") He realized as his right hand swirling around for the candle. A snap of the finger, and he lit up the wick.

After another minute or so changing out his pajama, Azel now sat on the edge of the bed, looking aimlessly around the half-lit room. What to do to pass the night, he wondered. That was, until he caught the sight of the bookshelves.

("Alvis only kept his most favorite books in his room") And the rest were stored in the castle's impressive library.

He rummaged through the books, hoping to find something that could catch his interest. Benson had been diligent in his duty – there was not even a single speck of dust on the bookshelves. The books themselves were categorized by their contents, whether it be profiles, history, magic, novels,…

There was only one book that was out of place, at one end of the shelf and pressed between two thick leather tomes. It was a struggle in itself to take it out.

It was the collection of Alvis's paintings. Taking up the brush had always been his way to find solace from all the intriguing at the court. There were at least about a hundred paintings, and they stacked up to the width of his index.

The papers had aged to a crisp yellow, saved for places where the staples were that had turned into the red of rust. In prudent Azel flipped through the pages. He tried to understand what meaning his brother had hidden under the lines.

When Alvis did first start painting?… Four or five? Through his eyes the world appeared to be a fascinating, if not baffling place. Even the simple flower in the garden was a puzzle of color. It was not lines but splashes of red, blue, yellow, green, and white that gave everything meaning.

As he got older, the paintings became more coherent, with outlines drawn and erased again and again, no doubt under the hands of a stern tutor. And, the tone too changed. Brighter color were used less, replaced by more somber ones such as purple and velvet.

A portrait caught his eyes. To be more exact, portraits of two people drawn on the same page. Father… and Lady Cigyun. The boy, with the steadiest hands he could, had tried to convey his love through the pencil. And, it might be a coincidence or not, he also seem to find as much resemblance he had to his mother. The eyes especially. Even on flat paper they seemed to be alive and shine with a tender light.

But Duke Victor... Drawn with skewered lines, the handsome and flamboyant noble (as Azel had heard from the servants' whisper) appeared as ugly as it could be. Alvis even unconsciously added an inch here and there, lengthened his nose and eyes and ears, giving him an unsavory look. At least, that was what he appeared in his son's critical and pitiless eyes.

The following paintings, however, was an abrupt change. It was an abrupt change, which Azel suspected that his brother drew these quite some time after the last one. Whether was it their garden, a lake, the market, they all looked as they were, tranquil or … His hand had become uncritical, acceptance, if not …

And the last painting… A little red-haired boy holding his brother's hand…

* * *

 _Once again, Alvis was able to enjoy the echoes of his footstep on marble. He was alone for the first time since morning. He needed not to exert all of his brain to remember all the ridiculously long nobility titles, or to reply to the lords and barons' praises, or to make empty promises so as to lube the machine running._

 _Really, it was never a remotely good way to enjoy your birthday._

 _After he had made sure to satisfy all the important people attending his party, Alvis had called for bad health as a … to retreat from his own birthday party. Now, he was walking back to his room._

 _Now, should he talk to his stalker? Alvis made sure that the corridor before calling him out:_

 _"_ _Azel. Do you wish to tell me anything?"_

 _A second later, and from behind the columns a boy timidly stepped into the light. There was an equal amount of guilt and shyness in his face._

 _Sighing, yet his lips opened into a fatherly smile, Alvis bended down to met his brother's eyes._

 _"_ _You could have just told me, instead of following me all day." He ruffled Azel's hair, noticing how he had been sweating. "Are you tired? Have you eaten anything?"_

 _"…"_ _The four-year-old boy kept silence, as fitting his normally-reserving personality._

 _"_ _If you're hungry, then let's us go to the kitchen. I can call for Thomas to fix you some French bread."_

 _"_ _Al-al."_

 _"_ _Hmm?" The boy suddenly thrust a piece of paper into his older brother's hand, before running away in Alvis's astonishment. Just as he was about to run after him, the Duke's thumb rubbed crayon, and so his head was brought down._

 _What he saw was a drawing of him and Azel holding each other's hand. From the carefully-filled background with green grass, blue sky, and yellow sun, he could deduct that the subjects of the picture was one of him and Azel's little trip around the garden. At the back of the paper, the wish "Happy Birthday, Lord Brother" were written, alongside a skewered signature._

 _His little brother had tried to draw Alvis in particular with the most detail he could think of. Unfortunately, it resulted in some pretty hilarious results, such as his hair a raven's nest, his forehead as tall as his neck, and his knees bent in an awkward angle (Alvis always had the tendency to lowered himself when walking with his little brother.)_

 _Still, he captured the smiles._

 _For Naga-knew-how-long, Alvis smiled the brightest smile he could muster. The laughter was as pure as the sound of church bells, and echoed by the column as much._

 _Scratch it, this was his best birthday ever._

* * *

Benson knocked on the door for the third times.

"Master, may I come in, master."

"Yes, yes. Please." Finally, Azel had replied. The butler stepping into the room to see his Finally, Azel had replied. The butler stepping into the room to see his young lord hunched over a book.

"Master, I bring..." What he saw sent ripples to Benson. His young master turned up from the page. The early light that had penetrated through the planks, reflected the glistening tears on Azel's face.

Not even a moment since the last word of the spell rolled off his tongue, he was immediately surrounded by several rings of fire. Wherever he stepped upon, grass burnt to cinder and pebbles melted. Even the air around him sensually danced in the heat.

"Fire!" The fireball was as large as a pumpkin and threw with the speed of a slingshot, yet Azel made it looked so effortlessly. The moment it hit the tree, one big flame split into multiple smaller ones. Almost instantly the shrubs caught fire.

In the heat of the moment, Azel invoked fireballs after fireballs, and threw them in all direction. He did it with a vigor rarely thought to be compatible with his otherwise timid personality. In the end, only when his mind had began to felt pain and his muscles strained did Azel stopped casting.

Around him was a scene taken from a nightmare, with everything burning in a deep-red flame. The fire in his eyes was a living being, a serpent that hungrily gurgled acre by acre of the garden. It coiled around him, turning its ruby-red toward him. Already had he seen mirages in those hypnosis irises that stared without blinking…

Suddenly, two etheric blades in the color of green cut the serpent in pieces. In pain, it slithered away, leaving a path of scorched grass and blackened trees. The choking smoke too was blown away by a strong gust that brought with it the fresh smell of ozone.

"Father, what are you doing out here so early in the morning?" Arthur walked to him, his limbs still sluggish after a night sleeping in exhaustion. He, however, was fully cladded in proper clothes, unlike him whose pajama was left unbuttoned.

"Did you have a good night sleep?"

"Like a log... But still, you haven't answered my question. Why are you standing in the open with your tome like that?"

"Just like what you see here." Azel turned a full circle to show his son the destruction that he had wrought. "I'm only stretching my arms and legs… I asked Benson which part of the garden was overgrown." The last part was added when he saw the disbelief in his son's look.

"It's too early for anything like this!"

"Nothing is too early... Hey, Arthur. Why don't we have a fight?" It must have been the heat. It planted ideas, crazy ideas that normally Azel would never had thought of.

"Huh? What are you saying? Fight?"

"Fetch your tomes out here, and we shall spar with each other. I wish to see how much have you advanced in magic."

"There is a time and place for everything, Father. We can have our sparring latter on. Please come inside and have breakfast with us."

"No." Refused Azel, who then spoke in a serious tone. "We will fight each other, and we will do it right now, right here."

"If I win, I'll go with join with the Expedition Army. If you win, you'll go with Fee and let me inherited the Dukedom."

"Father, you must have been kidding me…" The topic had been again and again raised by Azel in those days, and almost always it ended with an annoyed Arthur either distracted his father or making up an excuse to go somewhere else.

After a long minute looking at the defiance expression on his father's face. Arthur gave up. Displeasure began to shimmer within the boy at his father's antics. Still, he kept it at check and decided to entertain Azel's wish:

"Fine, then, we will spar. Please wait for a moment for me to find my tomes. And why don't you change your clothes while I am doing it?" Snarled Arthur. Despite his visible annoyance, Azel seemed extremely pleased with himself.

* * *

"Fire!"-"Wind!" Blades of air and balls of flame clashed in an impressive spectacle. The atmosphere grew hotter and volatile by the second, to the point miniature cyclones began to form.

A duel between two mages had always been a deadly affair, especially if the duelist were of great caliber. Spells could be invoked within seconds, and their effects felt instantly. But offensive magic was not the only way to win, as combatants also employ psychological attacks that could disrupt his foe's thought-emotion equilibrium.

"You should've stuck with anything but wind magic!" Azel taunted, which made Arthur's face turned darker. Yet the young man shown no sign of being distracted. The green blades restlessly came from his hand, graceful in their lethality. Already had their battleground cleared of trees, with the logs bore many deep scars by Arthur's wind. Those same logs was smartly used by him – he ran, he rolled, he jumped, getting as many thing as possible to stand between him and his father, while taking advantage of his control over wind magic to hit him out-of-the-sight.

Still, as consummated Arthur had shown to be even a novice in magic could tell that he was hard-pressed to keep up with his father. Several times had he been hit with Azel's fireballs, each left little damage, but together they sting, badly so. Step by step, he was being pushed back.

As of his father, even when he had been years away from combat and his muscles atrophied by lying dormant for too long, he still could make everything incinerate to his touch. Seeing through his son's "bluff", Azel had decided to scorch the field so as to left no ground for Arthur to run. First their arena was marked by a ring of fire, which then gradually spread inward. The fact that the flame only grew in one direction was a testament to his skill.

Two blazing rope entwined themselves around Arthur's legs, seeking to restrain him. Seeing the danger, the man threw himself forward, then rolled into a ball. But where to next? Already had he seen his entire possible route being cut off.

"Now, the end game!" Gathering the flame into both of his hand, Azel unleashed a barrage of spells unto his son, without mercy…

"Elthunder!" The scream was so surprised to Azel that he stood paralyzed for a good three second. Only by the deafening crack on the air was he realized the coming lightning.

He barely avoided the lightning bolt, but even so he could felt, his ears bled by the explosion. The spot which he had stood there a moment ago was nothing but a raging fire now.

With his brain still ringing in the skull, Azel struggled to stand up on his legs. And instead of creating a flame from nowhere, he drew upon the fire already burning near. Like a snake, it coiled around his forearm before his hand was a living torch.

This must end now. He knew how capable his children could be with Thunder magic. In their veins ran the "gift", after all.

"Fire!" This was no mere fire spell. The fireball burned with the intensity of the sun and flew with the force of a meteor. It slammed into Arthur, dousing him with flame.

Yet, when the spell had died, it only left him laying face-down onto the dirt and his clothes burned away, but his body unscathed. Even Arthur was deeply surprised by it.

"So you cheated." Azel stated matter-of-fact. He had not a trace of anger in his voice, even offered a hand to his opponent.

"I cheated." Arthur admitted as he stood up. "I brought a spell that I shouldn't have."

"I thought you don't use thunder?"

"Only in emergency situations."

"And this is an emergency situation? So… You want me to stay that much?"

"Yes, yes I do. I'll do everything to make you understand that the war is over."

"You know what… Let's just forget what has happened and call it a day. Tomorrow morning, come to the garden at the same time. I'll make sure that you'll beat next time."

"What… did you just say?"

"I'll tutor you in magic. You know your way around, that much I admitted. But without the theory to back it up, it means nothing."

* * *

 _"_ _Without the theory to back it up, it means nothing." Alvis said to his bewildered brother. In his left hand was a leather-bound tome the size of the forearm, with the title "A Treatise on the Nature of Fire" written in gold._

 _And in his other hand, on each of his fingers a flame danced. With every flick of his wrist, the fires moved along with the grace of a snake with the grace of a snake._

 _"_ _How can you do that, brother?"_

 _"_ _Like I said before, know the theory." The individual fires began to fuse into a big one, and soon enough his entire hand was a living torch. Alvis made a slashing action with it._

 _To Azel's astonishment, the bush ten step away from them instantly caught fire to Alvis's will, and yet he could not see any fire ball flying from his palm._

 _"_ _Are you impressed?" He nodded. "You can do it too, Azel. You carry the gift with you. With it, you can burn as bright as the sun."_

 _"_ _Can I really be that good?" Asked Azel. In his normally-timid eyes, a new enthusiasm was being lit up. "Can I really become as good as you, brother?"_

 _"_ _You will surpass me… Now, are you ready to learn something new?"_

 _"_ _Yes!"_

 _"_ _Then please repeat after me…" Alvis flipped open the tome._

* * *

To think that just an hour ago, he was still on a carriage riding full-speed toward the capital. And here he was, preparing for his daughter's wedding.

"What do you think of this dress, lord father?" Asked Teeny, who made a twirl for his father to see. The dress, perfectly fit for a queen, nevertheless was not quite right to Azel. She just seemed too small for it… He could not really believe what he was seeing altogether. His little Teeny in a wedding gown.

Oh Naga! What've he missed!

"Lord Father?"

"It fine, Teeny. It's perfect for you…" The man stumbled. "And please, leave the "Lord" and just call me "Father", okay?"

"Yes… Father."

…

As the handmaidens were busying themselves with taking her wedding gown for the royal tailor (in the end, it was still need a quick cut), Teeny sat around the round table with her father, two steamy cups of orange pekoe before each of them.

"I'm sorry, teeny." Azel spoke, much to his daughter's surprise. "For not being able to help you much with your wedding, I mean. I'm useless when it comes to these things."

"No, father. You're here is enough to me. I'm extremely happy that I have you, lord brother, and prince Seliph with me." The maturity of his daughter greatly surprised Azel. Now he understand that Teeny had all grown up to be a beautiful, strong, and wise woman. She, for a long time, had not been the little bundle of energy and diaper that he and Tailto used to carry on their arms.

"…You just don't know how much your words mean to me." In that moment, Azel want to yell "Just look at me! I'm the happiest father in the world!"

"You looked just like your mother, dear. She used to brought me only joy."

"Father… Lord Brother told me that you two were once childhood sweethearts."

After a long moment to reminiscence, he finally gave an answer:

"I wouldn't put it as "Childhood sweetheart." Your mother and I, we had been best friends as long as we could remember. But only during the crusade that I fell in love with your mother… I was actually a fool, really…"

"If it doesn't bother you… Can you tell me how did it happen?"

His story might make a good wedding gift, Azel thought. What could he give anyway, but his legacy? And so, he accepted:

"Let's see… It all started when I messed up Lady Adean's bouquet in her wedding day…"

* * *

 _…_ _With their hands still entwined, Azel and Tailto rushed into the wedding site. Quite a crowd had gathered in the castle's yard, their simple garment belies the noblest men and women._

 _"_ _Sorry for being so late, Adean!" Yelled Azel._

 _The center of the occasion, Lady Adean, was simply stunning. The wedding dress was brilliant in its simplicity, and was made even more gorgeous with the addition of a cape as white as the Silesian snow. On her head the lady donned a small hat with red ribbon. (Azel somehow felt that it was deeply inadequate, however. With Lady Adean, only a crown of seven-color gems would be sufficient.)_

 _"_ _There you are! Since you took the bouquet we were waiting for you to bring it back." She gracefully accepted the bouquet from Azel's hand and nodded in appreciation to them._

 _"_ _Tailto managed to fix it."_

 _"_ _Is that so? Thank you, Tailto."_

 _As for Duke Reptor's daughter, she was simply baffled and stood silently, eyes opened wide. By the wedding, yes, but more so by the appreciative smile that Lady Adean showed to her. Azel had to nudge his best friend for a reaction:_

 _"_ _Go on. You have to offer your congratulation."_

 _"_ _Oh my! The way you're acting… You two look just-like a newly-wed couple. You're holding hand too."_

 _"_ _What…?!"_

 _Pressing their foreheads together, the bride whispered a good-luck wish to her ears:_

 _"_ _This is for the future bride. May the moment in which you feel true happiness will come to you soon…"_

 _This struck her even harder. Tailto could have squared that she was fuming through her ears! If not, how could she explain the burning sensation on her face, or the painful throbbing in her heart? A million images exploded before her vision, each but a shard of the colorful mosaic, not unlike what you saw when sunlight shone upon the stained glasses of a church._

 _It took a good second before a dazed Tailto could muster a reply:_

 _"_ _Lady Adean. Are you… happy?"_

 _"_ _Yes. At this very moment, I am extremely happy."_

 _…_

 _"_ _How… How weird. You're holding my hand, Azel, yet I am still…"_

 _They stood there, detached from the crowd, watching the ceremony to end. Stood before the altar was the bride and the groom, in their eyes only saw each other and heard the words of the priest:_

 _"_ _By the providence granted by our Lord Naga, I hereby declare you husband and wife, hitherto eternity." Said Father Claude. A loud cheer followed as Lady Adean and Prince Jamka exchanged the kiss._

 _Azel smiled at his companion, while using his finger to wipe away the glistening tears on her face. He found them more precious than even the most crafted diamond:_

 _"_ _It's okay. You can cry. Aren't they welcome tears of joy?"_

* * *

The wedding day was finally here. The Imperial Palace, after a very long time, was filled to the brim with guests coming from all over the continents; some of them were the people with the power to change the fate of millions with one word.

Naturally, with any gathering such as this, vanity and arrogant were virtues, and each tried their best to outdo the others in wealth or wittiness. The gaiety of their clothes was only matched by the audacity of their boasts, and sarcasm glittered as much as any jewelry.

Gold and diamond never shine, though.

"The Queen of Grannvale and her father, the Viscount of Ankara." The royal crier, a plump man with the belt seemed one size small to his waist, shouted in solemn. Like bushes of rush before the wind, all fell down to the knees except for a few ones. The Crusaders, the closest comrades to the Emperor and who had been granted the prestige of standing while others kneel.

The soon-to-be Queen Teeny walked down the aisle in a plain, if not austere wedding dress, with the veil covered her entire face. Her unblemished look put a stark contrast to the colorful crowd. But she was radiating, shining so bright and so pure that all eyes were on her yet at the same time scared to look directly on her to be dazzled. The only disturbance to the reverence silent was the quiet sobbing of one man, who shed tear of joy for his little sister.

Not unlike Arthur and the rest of the crowd, Azel too was affected, if not being struck harder than anybody else in the room. The father of the bride was walking with one leg on solid ground, and the other on the cloud. He flashed between dream and reality.

( _"Lady Diadora, Lady Ayra, Lady Adean…"_ ) The weddings of his former comrades now passed through his eyes, their details blurred into each other to form a perfect movie that, nevertheless, brought a sense of melancholy to his heart. He had already turned old, hadn't he? He had seen so many things, met so many people, lost all and then gained all back.

A selfish thought took root in Azel's heart. He should have never handled his little Teeny to another man. Maybe he should crash the party right at this moment, and spirit his family to the farthest corner of the land.

"Father... We're here." They ended before the dais, where the Emperor stood with Bishop Corpul. It was hard not to radiate joy when you were inundated in it. Seliph beamed a wide smile, if not goofy and out-of-place to the solemnity of the ritual, at his fiancée and her father. The crown of Grandvelle rested upon his brows, yet Azel could not help but to harken back to the young, adorable joy that was the joy of his father and mother.

That was right. He should not think that he lost a daughter, but instead gain a son today.

"I handle her to you. Please treat my daughter well."

"I will." Vowed his son-in-law. And just as Azel about to unwind his arm from his daughter's, Teeny tugged at his sleeves.

"Father." She was smiling, while here eyes were still red for the crying. Before, in the dressing room, she had already shed plenty of tears over her father's shoulders.

"Thank you… For everything."

"Are you… happy?"

"Yes. At this very moment, I am extremely happy."

Azel pressed forward and kissed her forehead lovingly, then murmured into her ears:

"Then it is the best gift you can give your father. Please always the smile on your lips, my little Teeny."

With that, he retreated to the crowd. The ranks spitted, making way for him to stand next to his son and daughter-in-law.

Arthur had stopped sobbing, yet the tears still flowed down his cheeks. Seeing so, Azel placed his arm over his shoulder. On the opposite side, Fee intertwined her fingers with those of her husband.

" _Teeny Falan Velthomer, do you take Seliph Baldos Chalphy to be your Husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only to him forevermore?"_

 _"_ _I do."_

"How… How weird. You're all next to me, yet I am still…"

" _I will…"_

…

"It's okay. You can cry. Aren't they welcome tears of joy?"

" _By the providence granted by our Lord Naga, I hereby declare you husband and wife, hitherto eternity._ "

* * *

On the well-burned field, stood the father and the son with tomes in their clutches. Silently they looked into their opponent's eyes, gauging each other's power. It was as much as a duel as the battle about to happen.

And Arthur was the one to yield:

"Father… Let's just stop this. I concede."

"You… concede?" Azel was greatly surprised. Since the wedding, they had been training non-stop for this moment. He had taught his son everything he knew about magic. Arthur could now readily handle him his ass.

"I concede. "Arthur repeated, throwing his arms to the air. "You can do whatever you want. Take the Dukedom… And I'll go with Fee."

"Why making this so easy? I have confidence that you'll surely put up a good fight."

"I don't know… I just don't want to fight you anymore… What is happening to me?"

"Arthur." The now-Duke of Velthomer stressed to his son. "What to do with your life, that's something you must find out for yourself."

"And you hope that by travelling with Fee, I'll find it out?"

"Yes, that's what I hope. But if you can't, then don't push yourself. There're people who spent over half of their life to find their own meaning… Like me."

"And what is that, father? What is the meaning of your life?"

Arthur suddenly found his father's arm slung over his shoulder, and together they walked toward the Velthomer castle. The sun had reached its nadir, yet it burn with an incomparable intensity. It seemed as if there was no end to the depth of its crimson.

"You know, son, why don't we discuss it over some champagne? I heard that Benson saved a few old bottles in the cellar. And what time is better than now to pop the cork?"


End file.
